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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26748112">cinéma vérité</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/notbang/pseuds/notbang'>notbang</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fringe (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:48:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26748112</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/notbang/pseuds/notbang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Charlie's pretty sure he can see where this is headed and that the entire thing can be somehow blamed on that one semester in college Lincoln spent pretending to be a film major to piss off his father.</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>cinéma vérité</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Finishing a rewatch felt like a good time to finally move some stuff over to the archive!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They're loitering on a street corner, half freezing their asses off waiting for Liv again. Charlie's old enough but young enough to still be able to torturously recall the sensation that's distinctly the heaven that is hot coffee, and while Lincoln kicks around the dirty snow at their feet and starts wisecracking, he hunches a little inside his woollen coat and longs for caffeine.</p>
<p>"You know how they say the allure of time travel is that it creates the possibility to witness, or even participate in, your own conception?"</p>
<p>Charlie stuffs one of his hands into the pocket of his coat and takes a bite of his sausage roll.</p>
<p>"Nobody ever says that," he says around the mouthful.</p>
<p>"You know this whole alternate universes thing totally one-ups that, right?" Lincoln continues, ignoring him. "Makes the ultimate fantasy completely achievable."</p>
<p>Charlie holds a gloved fist up to his mouth in a simultaneous attempt to warm it and mask the twist in his lips of expectant disgust, because he's pretty sure he can see where this is headed and that the entire thing can somehow be blamed on that one semester in college Lincoln spent pretending to be a film major to piss off his father. (Heaven knows he's hijacked movie night with that godawful Eric Stoltz trilogy too many times to count.)</p>
<p>"Ultimate fantasy? As your colleague, and not your fellow frat boy, I really don't think I need to hear this."</p>
<p>"If we have alternates that for the most part look like us, think like us… technically speaking, you could have sex with yourself."</p>
<p>Charlie pauses mid-chew to uncomfortably swallow.</p>
<p>"Definitely didn't need to hear it."</p>
<p>Lincoln laughs and tilts his head conspiratorially closer, elbowing his companion without actually making eye contact. It's not weird to talk about as long as they don't make eye contact.</p>
<p>"C'mon, Francis. This is a judgement free zone," he gestures with his hands. "We're both good looking guys. What's the matter, afraid the other Charlie isn't gonna like your worm infestation?"</p>
<p>"They're not worms, but you already knew that," Charlie gripes. "And I guess I'm not as new-age as you are, because this is getting freaky, even for a discussion between Fringe agents."</p>
<p>Lincoln snorts a little, and there's a brief silence.</p>
<p>"You're actually picturing this, aren't you? Your narcissism <i>truly</i> knows no bounds."</p>
<p>"Lincoln, a narcissist? No," mocks a voice, and both heads swivel to find Olivia waiting behind them, her long hair tucked snugly into the blue scarf encircling her neck.</p>
<p>Both Lincoln and Charlie stare for a moment before exchanging a guilty glance, and Olivia shifts on her feet, huffing a cloud of vapour into the chilly air.</p>
<p>"What? Do I have something in my teeth?"</p>
<p>"No," they insist in unison.</p>
<p>"So, Liv," Lincoln begins as they make their way towards the van, "about that night you and your alternate went at it gladiator style in your apartment…"</p>
<p>"You know, the other Charlie Francis is dead," she interrupts. "And their Lincoln? Wears dorky glasses."</p>
<p>She manages to make it sound as if this is somehow worse (and Lincoln kind of secretly thinks it might be).</p>
<p>Then, after a beat, she adds,</p>
<p>"I was kinda hot as a blonde, though, right?"</p>
<p>She doesn't really wait for a reply before hoisting herself up into the back seat, and this time, Lincoln and Charlie are smart enough to pause appropriately before murmuring their noncommittal agreement.</p>
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